


catharsis (lucky strikes)

by softjohndae



Series: heavenly words [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: M/M, dont smoke kids, idk its a mess, lapslock, unhealthy amounts of romanticizing smoking, word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 11:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15907053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softjohndae/pseuds/softjohndae
Summary: catharsis; (n.); release of emotional tension





	catharsis (lucky strikes)

it all started with a simple lighter. a lighter chan always carried in the pocket of his black leather jacket. there was really no reason for him to carry a lighter with him at all times, but he did. maybe it was because his friends smoked - he’d always lend them light when they forgot to bring their own lighters, or lost them, or someone had stolen them at the club. the lighter was nothing extraordinary, just plain black, one of those cheap ones. chan’s fingertip stung just a tiny bit every time he rolled his thumb against the wheel. 

chan wasn’t big into smoking. more of a social smoker, that’s what he’d always say. just went along with his friends, sometimes took a drag to heighten his drunk haze. sometimes he sat at the roof of the building his tiny apartment was situated in, staring at the city lights underneath his feet, taking long drags of his cigarette. he liked marlboros, the green kind. red, if the small market near his apartment was out of green ones. but never anything else besides marlboros. 

it all started with a simple lighter. chan was standing outside of a nightclub, in a circle with his friends, laughing. someone tapped him on his shoulder, someone with smouldering eyes, cherry red lips, pinky ears, someone with wild brown hair and hickeys on his neck.  
“you have any light?” the someone had said with a tone oh so sweet.  
“y-yeah, sure.” chan had said and fumbled for the lighter in his left pocket. maybe the cherry red lips and the hooded eyes had him blushing. he got the lighter, lifted it to the strangers face. lit it up. the stranger lifted a cigarette to his lips, dragged in the air through it, lit his little coffin nail. stared chan right in the eyes. it didn’t last for longer than a second.  
“thanks.” the stranger breathed out, smoke filling the air between the two. chan let go of the wheel, the fire from the stranger’s eyes went out. he turned around, and disappeared into the night with his lit cigarette. 

chan turned back to his friends. he couldn’t get the cherry lips out of his mind for the rest of the night.

 

so he went back the next weekend. with his friends, of course. chan wouldn’t have dared to go alone in such place. he lit a cigarette, a marlboro green one (just the right amount of menthol), leaned back against the cold tiles just outside of the club. his friend was banging some chick he had found from the dancefloor in the toilets. chan didn’t mind, that’s how he was. his other friends were back at their table playing shot roulette. chan’s leather jacket hung loosely from his frame. it was a old one, a ragged one. he should probably got a new one, but he didn’t want to throw the jacket away. it carried so many memories. the other sleeve was torn from the shoulder, chan had sewed it back at least three times now. 

“you have any light?” cold chills, flaming hot chills ran down chan’s back at the voice. he recognized it. it was exactly the same voice from a week ago. still dripping with honey, still a little rough. he turned his eyes to the cherry lips on his left side. the boy was leaning against the wall beside him, in nothing but a loose, sleeveless top and ripped jeans. chan fished the lighter once again from his pocket, lifted it up. the stranger walked up to him, the cigarette once again between those cherry red lips. chan’s thumb stung, he’d never got used to the stiff wheel of the lighter. for a second the cherry lips’ eyes were flaming again.  
“thanks.” but he didn’t turn around. 

“you don’t have your friends around this time?” chan was surprised, to say the least. he hadn’t expected the cherry lips to stay.  
“they’re inside.” he answered, tried to sound nonchalant.  
“needed some fresh air?” the cherry lips continued. his hair looked orange in the street lights. other groups of people were chattering around them. chan snorted, took a drag of his cigarette.  
“you could say so.” oh the irony. 

the cherry lips didn’t continue after that. chan didn’t know what to say. that was one great thing about cigarettes, the silence didn’t turn that awkward when you had something to do. the brown-haired boy was faster, he threw the butt on the ground and stepped on it. he gazed at chan once before turning around, once again;  
“see you, pretty thing.” chan almost choked on his saliva. 

he couldn’t get the cherry lips out of his mind for the rest of the week. 

 

so, chan was back again. alone. his friends had better things to do (just last week he had sworn he wouldn’t dare to come to this place alone). the black leather jacket was still on, his hair a wild curly mess, as always. he closed his eyes, listened to the beat thrumming against the walls behind him. listened to the city around him. it was alive. the smoke drew abstract patterns in the air.  
“i suppose you have a light?” chan had to suppress a smile before he opened his eyes to the sight of the cherry lips. the boy was a lot closer this time, dressed in a plain white tee and the same ripped, black jeans. he clearly knew what suited him. the shirt was loosely tugged underneath the waist of his jeans. chan took the lighter, lit the stranger’s cigarette. for a brief second he wondered how the boy didn’t get cold, and then he realized the boy probably didn’t just sit around in the club.  
“alone?” chan was the one to begin the conversation.  
“as always.” the cherry lips answered. perhaps the answer made chan a little sad. why was he alone? 

“you?” chan nodded. the boy nodded. and a small smirk grew on the boys lips. chan had never known anyone could look so alluring.  
“you came just for me?”  
“maybe.” chan hoped to god the shadows hid the blush on his cheeks.  
“aww.” chan put the lighter back in his pocket.  
“what’s your name?” the boy didn’t sound that curious. he sounded like he could care less about chan’s name. he was there only for his entertainment.  
“chan.” the boy nodded and stuck his hand out.  
“minho.” chan took minho’s hand and shook it. what an odd situation to shake hands, nothing like the usual etiquette just outside some nightclub’s entrance.  
“see you next time, chan.” 

next time came, only now chan’s black lighter had turned to a white one. minho was wearing ripped jeans and an oversized hoodie. finally something warm. minho had also dyed his hair black. it suited him. not that he’d have cared about chan’s opinion.  
“tell me, chan, why marlboro greens?” chan looked at minho with a cocked eyebrow.  
“why not? they’re cheap, and taste better than the red ones”  
“it’s cigarettes. why do you care about the taste?” chan didn’t know. he shrugged.  
“why lucky strikes?” chan asked in return.  
“they’re cheap. they’re nostalgic. give me your phone.” minho was adamant, he didn’t ask, he ordered. chan did as he was told. with a cigarette between his slender fingers minho tapped on his screen as if writing something. chan got his phone back with a new number in it. 

***

it all started with a black lighter. now chan’s lighter was a metallic one. an expensive one, a zippo lighter. it’s the little luxuries in life, that’s what minho always said. chan still wasn’t big into smoking, he swore he wasn’t addicted. that was a lie, he was addicted. but not to cigarettes,

he was addicted to the black-haired boy sitting next to him. the black haired boy, whose legs were hanging from the rooftop, with nothing but thin air beneath them. a tad too close to the edge. a tad too close, just enough to get the adrenaline running, just enough the get that feeling of danger. the black haired boy, eyes closed, wind threading through his hair, the city lights contrasting his beautiful features. chan thought minho was breathtaking. and he was. 

“i don’t do feelings.” minho mumbled. it didn’t sting.  
“mmhm.” chan turned his eyes away from the boy, lit another cigarette. he didn’t believe minho, and minho knew that. the way he ever so slightly scooted closer whenever a chilly breeze passed by ruffling chan’s hair gave it away. and the way minho no longer asked for light from chan, he simply pressed his own cigarette against chan’s lit cigarette and inhaled to light it up. and the fact that instead of clubbing every weekend, minho and chan just sat on top of the roof of chan’s apartment building. 

a bottle of red wine sat next to minho. his cheeks were red, so was the tip of his nose. chan couldn’t see it in the darkness of the autumn night, but he knew it. he knew minho by now.  
“i hate autumn. it’s so sad.” minho mumbled. he scooted a little closer, again. their shoulders brushed against each other. the noise of the traffic below their feet sounded a little mumbled. someone was having a party two apartments down by the sound of it.  
“it’s not sad. it’s colorful.” chan loved autumn.  
“yeah and rainy and people are sad. it’s the whole melancholic aura… it just reminds me of how everything eventually ends.” minho was a thinker, that chan had learnt. but he was also a very intuitive person, more driven by his emotions than his logical thinking and reason.  
“but everything needs to end in order to begin again.” the smoke from chan’s cigarette made minho cough. chan felt sorry for him, pulled the boy a little closer. minho grabbed the wine bottle, took a swig before offering it to chan. the wine tasted horrible. but minho liked it, that’s why chan had brought it with him.  
“beginnings suck.” chan snorted at the boy. minho’s lips stretched to a tiny smile. 

if chan was autumn, minho was spring. that’s what chan had figured during their time together. short days, long nights. safe, but with a twist. fresh. a new beginning, even though minho claimed to hate those. he claimed to hate a lot of things, like he had first said he hated chan’s old, torn leather jacket, but now he was the one wearing it. “it just smells like you”, that’s what minho said, trying to explain how it suddenly had just one day disappeared from the coat rack of his apartment. but chan had finally got a new one, and made a lot of memories with it, like the one he and minho had walked through the city during the night, with intertwined fingers for the first time. or the first time they had kissed in the rain outside minho’s apartment building. or the time they had taken a nap in the park during the summer and someone had stolen their picnic basket. every memory had something to do with minho. 

minho took chan’s hand. his hands were cold, but chan’s weren’t much warmer. his knuckles were bruised. chan didn’t ask about it, but he had a hunch it had something to do with the guy who had tried to hit on chan yesterday at the small bar two blocks away. minho was the jealous type, sadly. but the guy really hadn’t got the hint, even though chan had told him he already had someone. it was kind of a lie, since he and minho had never talked about actually dating. they just… spent time together. a lot. and chan really liked to think minho was his boyfriend, but he didn’t say it outloud, since he knew minho wasn’t so keen on attachment. he was afraid, chan knew that. but he didn’t know what he was afraid anymore.  
“do you have work tomorrow?” minho’s voice was soft, still dripping with honey. he was wearing the same ripped jeans. they were even more torn nowadays, maybe because of chan.  
“from nine to five.” the boy sighed at his answer. smoke filled chan’s lungs. minho dropped the ashes from the other end of his cigarette to the ground underneath them. 

the silence between them wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable. chan stroked minho’s hand absent-mindedly with his thumb. it was one of his habits, he really didn’t pay any attention to it. minho loved it. chan threw his cigarette butt down and hoped it didn’t land on anyone’s head. minho pressed his head against chan’s shoulder, let his own cigarette drop down as well. it was more of a habit by now, how soon enough minho threaded his fingers through chan’s hair and pressed his lips against chan’s. minho tasted sweet, he tasted home. he tasted of lucky strikes. the cheap ones, as minho had said the fourth time they met. maybe they were cheap, but to chan they were one of the richest tastes he had ever experienced. something so absolutely, utterly minho. 

chan wrapped his other arm around minho’s waist, as if to hold him closer. in reality it was because chan knew minho was quick to get carried away while making out, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d forget they were sitting on a rooftop, inches away from certain death. minho’s lips moved against chan’s with a slow pace, savoring every second. even the wine tasted better from minho’s lips. chan felt minho’s tongue sweep against his lower lip. he smiled into the kiss, nibbling, sucking minho’s lower lip before continuing from his cheek down to his neck, pressing small kisses here and there. he could feel the tension in his shoulders, in the pit of his stomach, in his head slowly untangling itself with every single kiss he planted on minho’s golden skin. the other boy whined a little when chan nibbed the sensitive skin just above minho’s collarbone. he pulled back, pressed a small kiss on the corner of minho’s mouth (the spot where the corner of his lips turned to kitten curls). 

minho’s lips looked bitten, his eyes were hooded. chan felt minho’s hand sliding from his curls down his back, stopping around his waist, setting on it’s place. it was so funny how simply minho’s presence made all the stress turn to static background noise that didn’t matter anymore. how it released all of the emotional tension. minho smiled, stared chan right in the eyes. still so intense. he fumbled another cigarette from the pocket of chan’s (now minho’s) leather jacket, put it between his cherry lips. with that cheshire cat grin of his he made chan fall all over again and again;  
“you have any light?”

**Author's Note:**

> wow surprise it's not a changlix fic !!!! the inspiration for this piece came from no other than lucky strike by troye sivan (it's a masterpiece). once again this is more of me learning how to capture moments and small slices of life and details. this is also my first take ever on minchan so i'm still a little lost with the characteristics and so on but yes i hope you enjoyed! also my twt is @flowerychans in case someone's interested, feel free to dm me or something (tho im a lil shy at first) !


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